Bad Memories
by Yukicchi
Summary: America tries to comfort England by singing him a song that England would sing to him when he was little. When England hears the song he tells America his true feelings, and what he's held in for so many years.


"Get away from me you wanker! You've caused me enough pain already!" Arthur shouted at the American sitting next to him on the bed. The Brit slipped of the bed in tear and sat on the floor hugging his legs.

Alfred rolled his eyes and scooted himself off the bed and sat next to the sobbing Brit. He pulled him into his lap, holding him against his chest. "It's ok Artie~ Alfred's got ya." he placed a kiss on his forehead and rested his head on Arthur's. The American began to hum a song that England would sing to him when he would try and put him to sleep back when he was still the colonies. It brought back memories. Good ones alone with a few bad ones.

Two memories in particular. The last night he slept with England before he declared war on him, Arthur had sung him this song when they were going to bed. The other the night before the he left to go back to his country to fight in the war, Alfred was really little here, he sang him this song before they went to bed.

A small smile slipping across America's face, and tears welled up in his eyes as he pulled England in closer.

"No damn it, it's not okay. It's worse when you have me, you git... You cause me pain and then try to make it better. You've always done that, ever since the first day we met... I should have let Francis take you." The Englishman was sobbing by the time he finished speaking, he was tired of getting hurt by the American.

Looking up to the American when he heard the song, it only made him sob more and clutch onto the younger nation. He wanted to punch the American in the head for doing this to him, all these memories he had left. "I hate you so much, Alfred." The Englishman sobbed out as quietly as he could.

Alfred took his head off Arthur's and looked at him with tears in his eyes and a hurt, shocked, horrified look on his face. "Y-You really wish France took me?" he said in disbelief, tears streaming down his face once he said I hate you. The man Alfred always looked up to and loved said he'd liked it better if he had never taken him. He took the Brit and set him on the bed before walking to the door of the room, his head down and a hand over his pathetic face. "I love you, Iggy. I always have." He walked out of the room and shut door behind him.

Alfred walked back into England's bedroom and changed into the clothes he wore when he had come over yesterday. Button up shirt, dress pants, shoes, tie, and his bomber jacket. 'I should have let Francis take you'. The words repeated in his head over and over again. 'I hate you'. The words made more tears fall down his face. America walked down the stairs and stopped at the door. He looked behind him. No one was there. Arthur really didn't care about him. Alfred turned the knob on the front door. He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes with his sleeve before walking outside and began his way down the road.

Arthur sniffled as he was set down onto the bed. He didn't look up, he just sobbed into his hands. He was pathetic, and now he was letting the American walk out of his life again, even if he hurt him, he still loved the American. He was just angry. Arthur got to his feet, to rush down stairs to get to the American after he heard the door click to his house.

Throwing the door open, and running down the street sobbing, he dropped to his knees a few yards away from the American, sobs still ripping through him. "You bloody git! Come back here!" He cried out pathetically to the American. "I love you, you stupid wanker. I don't want us to hurt each other anymore... Come back.." Arthur had his face buried in his hands as he tried to hide his shame from the public, he hoped America would bring them back to the house and get them out of the public view.

Alfred continued to walk down the street sobbing, his hair casting a shadow over his eyes. England really did hate him. Everything he'd ever done with him was a lie. Singing the song that he was humming a few minutes ago, Arthur didn't even mean anything by it. The toy soldiers he made him when he was a kid. Or the suit he bought him when he said he dressed like a punk. He never really loved or cared about him.

The American's trail of thought broke when he hear a sobbing brutish accent behind him. His head snapped back to see Arthur in the middle of the road begging him to come back. Alfred didn't have a clue what to do. He was frozen in place. 'What if he was just lying again? What if I go back to him and he does it again. Wow. It's a really nice day today. I kind of want to go golfing. Wait, I hate golf. Never mind. I don't want to go golfing anymore.'

Arthur kept his head down, trying to keep his sobbing quiet, but it was hard to control that. His breathes were fighting to come out, and he seemed to be sniffling from behind him, soft hyperventilating sounds coming from the pathetic man as he struggled to breathe through his tears. "Alf-Alfred... Please.." He whimpered lowly, squirming in discomfort as passerbies stared at the scene of the two males. Arthur couldn't find the strength to get up though, it was like his legs had become rubber bands on his. "Please.. C-come back... p-please. I-I love you s-so much." He begged lightly as he watched the American through his hands.

Alfred, no longer sobbing but looking completely serious, walked over to the crying Englishman in the middle of the road. He bent down, taking his wrists and moving his hands away from his face. The American bent his head down so he was eye level with the Brit. "Iggy..." he said with a sympathetic look and sound in his voice. He perked up more. "Do I like golfing? Because I was thinking about how nice it was outside, and what a good day it would be for golfing. But then I thought, Hey! I don't like golfing! But then I wasn't sure." Alfred rambled on.

Looking up to Alfred with a soft expression, his face curled into disgust after a moment. "No, you bloody git, you can't stand golfing!" He said angrily, pushing the American's hands away from his and pouted silently. He placed his hands on Alfred's chest and pushed at him, at an attempt to make the America go away. Or push the stupidity out of him.

Alfred let out a small chuckle. "That's good. I didn't want to waste my day on something I hate. I rather waist my day with you." He smile happily, tears of joy in his eyes as he took hold of Arthur's wrists. He put their hands down on England's lap. He pressed his lip to Arthur's and pulled him onto his lap. "I'd much rather waste my day with you."


End file.
